Eye of the Tiger
by PowerPen
Summary: The story of Tiger, a program who fought and understood the One.


**Disclaimer:**I do not own the Matrix.

**Eye of the Tiger**

"_You do not truly know somebody until you fight them." – Seraph_

We ran into the great hall almost simultaneously, emerging from doors opposite of each other. There were only four of them and there were nine of us, but a cold wave of fear swept through me.

On their side was the Keymaker, who was no threat whatsoever. But the other three were obviously human, and very dangerous ones. Morpheus, a rebel leader so effective in his search for the One he would have freed every mind in the matrix to find him. Trinity, the rebel soldier that tales were told of, of how she fought agents and damned near won-

And then there was him. Every program in the Matrix knew his face, his code. It was the One. All beings, even the agents, feared him. I saw even the Merovingian stiffen.

"Go." He said, no trace of emotion in his voice as the Keymaker raced away. "I'll handle them."

"Handle us? You'll handle us?" Merovingian spat, motioning to us. The twins, possibly the only ones out of us all with any hope of facing him and winning, phased and drifted through the floor after the Keymaker. "You know, your predecessors had much more respect."

We stepped forward, raised our assorted guns, and squeezed the triggers. For a full minute, the only sound was the noise of gunfire echoing through the hall. With every shell that hit the floor, we hoped, almost begged of him with our bullets, that he would fall. That he would die before we had to fight him…

But he refused. He held out his hand, commanding the bullets to stop, twisting the rules of the Matrix itself to his wishes. The bullets clattered harmlessly to the floor, like so many marbles. He raised one hand, daring us to attack him.

"Okay, so you have some skill." The Merovingian admitted grudgingly. "Kill him."

There were six of us; programs who had managed to fall into the Merovingian's employ some way or another. I did not know of the other's stories, but I was "hired" when I went to the Merovingian to save my wife from deletion. I had nothing to offer, save myself.

I soon proved my worth to him. He said that he had never seen a program fight like I had. I said that he had never seen my wife.

I now wish I had never said that. He captured my wife, and held her in one of his secret rooms, informing me that she would be killed if I did not continue to work for him. I fight for her, and that gives me strength I would otherwise not have.

But now, I did not know if even that strength would see me through. The One gazed at all of us, waiting, waiting for one of us to break the tension-

Cain and the program on my right charged him, with only their bare fists. The rest of us wasted no time, heading for the weapons hanging from the wall.

A crash – Cain went smashing through a statue on the other staircase, taken out of the fight. He would be up later, no doubt. I've found that he was very hard to kill.

The other program went flying backwards into the wall, down but not out. The others had now armed themselves. And axe, a scythe, a chain ball – I mentally shook my head. This man deserved a shield.

I took one off of the wall, and grasped a sword. Steeling my nerves, I leapt at him. I leapt at the One.

He blocked the scythe, and broke the axe handle in the man's face with a swift kick. Then his head turned, registering me. Then, almost effortlessly, he backhanded me and sent me spinning to the side.

I stumbled backwards, and a chain ball went whizzing through the space where I had been. Another unlucky program received it to the side of his head, and collapsed to the floor with it buried in his skull.

I stared amazedly at him as he fought three programs at once, ducking and parrying and blocking at a blinding speed. Then all three attacked at once, with a unity that impressed me. One was blocked, and the other managed to knock his weapon from his hand. The last aimed and decapitating blow at his head, and the One futilely brought his hand up to protect himself.

He blocked it. The fight paused for a moment, and everybody stared at his hand. I gazed on in wonder.

A few drops of blood trickled from his pinky, staining the carpet. I dully noted that Persephone wouldn't be too pleased about us getting the blood of the One on the floor.

"You see?' The Merovingian encouraged. "He is only a man."

His words sent a burst of hope through me. I raced at him, swinging my sword at him. I refused to be defeated. He fought us all, moving faster than anyone I had seen before.

Then, he jumped, flipping through the air and landing on the railing. I don't think I was even surprised. Two weapons shot from the wall and leapt into his hands, as I bounded up the steps to meet him. This time prepared, I lunged at him. He lunged at me, and we met in the middle of the stairs.

And we fought. Our blows were fast and deadly, growing faster and faster. Mine were desperate, his determined. But we both felt it in the other's attack, the dangerous will to win.

He didn't want to kill me then, just as I didn't want to kill him. In a moment our senses would return, and we would remember what we were really fighting for. But in that second on the staircase, we were just two people with a purpose.

He snatched my sword from my hand, and pinned me, through the shield, to the wall. I struggled as he ran up the staircase to meet the other three remaining programs.

I strained, stretching my other hand around the shield and grabbing the hilt of the weapon. Tearing it out, I pulled myself from under it and grasped a mace. He was going to die, whether he wanted to or not.

I swung, putting all of the force I could muster into it. I missed, and smashed a pillar. Struggling to bring the heavy weight back around, I was wide open. But the One did not kill me; he rammed a sword through a program and sent him crashing through the railing.

The other two and I leapt over the railing, inches behind the One. He landed and caught the one with a short sword in the chest, then slashed rapidly at the other's face. One, two, three slashes, and then I was alone with the One.

I leveled the mace, preparing to use it as a staff. He tightened his grip on his weapons.

He attacked, calmly and efficiently. I defended just as calmly. But inside, we were both on fire. We both had our reason, our purpose, our strength. We both felt the purpose in each other's speeding blows, and respected each other for it. But the fact remained that one of us, purpose or no purpose, was going to die.

I knew what his purpose was. I felt his love for her in his punches, his passion when he blocked the mace. And it was so strong that suddenly, I accepted it. I was going to die.

He sent my mace flying into the air, and tried to stab me. I blocked them with my hands, which small cuts appeared on. While I was distracted, he knocked my legs from underneath me and caught my mace.

I stared at him, wondering what this man would accomplish with such a purpose. I was still wondering as he slammed the mace, almost apologetically, into my face.


End file.
